


The (Un)Broken Souls

by RaichuWrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Kinda, M/M, Meet-Cute, PTSS (Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome), Sugar Baby! Keith, Sugar Daddy AU, Sugar Daddy! Shiro, Veteran! Shiro, college student! keith, no beta we die like men, non-binary! Pidge, they/them pronouns for Pidge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:15:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26625049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaichuWrites/pseuds/RaichuWrites
Summary: Takashi Shirogane just wants to feel like he means something to someone.Keith Kogane just wants Shiro to stop spending money on him.And their friends? Just want them to hurry up and get married, already!
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 124





	1. Broken Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rui17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rui17/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by @artbypaigey on twitter, and this specific thread --> https://twitter.com/artbypaigey/status/1308409688137125888
> 
> I give full credit of the premise of this fic to them, I am merely the writer attempting to flesh the idea out into something resembling a fanfic.
> 
> Hope you lovely Sheithers enjoy this one! And hopefully my updates won't be so terribly sporadic as they usually are, but one never knows~!
> 
> Enjoy~

Takashi Shirogane breathed deeply as he came awake, startled from sleep by the lingering ring of gunshots in his ears. He lay there, dazed in the peaceful quiet, and took stock of himself.

He was panting, his heart pounding a staccato rhythm in his chest. His skull was pounding in time to the beating of his heart, and he was sweat-slicked. He was laying in sweat dampened sheets, and also covered in the crusty leavings of the previous night. When he looked to the other side of the bed, he found it to be empty. His heart clenched painfully at the sight.

He never could convince them to stay.

With a quiet grunt, Shiro rolled to the edge of the bed and sat there for a moment, feet on the floor, fingers pushing sweat slick hair back out of his eyes, as he forced himself to take slow, even breaths. When he felt he could stand without his legs falling out from under him, he made his slow way across the expanse of the master suite and into the ensuite to start his day, forcing down the memories that plagued him constantly since his medical discharge from the army fifteen years ago now. _Post traumatic stress syndrome_ , he was told when he woke up in the hospital, bandages across his nose and most of his body, and pain where his right arm should have been.

It had taken a long time for the phantom pains to stop. Longer than it had taken for the stump that remained of his arm to heal. Longer than it had taken for his first high-tech prosthesis fitting.

Shiro reminded himself to breathe deep once again, and turned the shower taps to scalding, before stepping under the spray to scrub the remnants of the night terrors away.

*

In the fifteen years since he’d been medically retired from the armed forces, Shiro had managed to become quite successful in his own right.

He’d often supposed that the drive to have two hands that he could feel sensation with again had been the primary incentive behind his shift into medical engineering. His business partners often enthused about the genius behind his designs, and the intricacies of the tech he was putting out into the world for people like himself. Broken, haunted souls who needed to feel whole again.

Shiro definitely wouldn’t have been able to get his business off the ground without the help of Matt and Allura though. He doubted he would’ve had a foot in the door without their expertise and ingenuity.

It was a shame that his friends couldn’t slake his aching sense of loneliness.

There were days when Shiro lay awake in bed, and the feeling would try to swallow him whole, leaving him weak and shaking like a leaf in its wake. Shiro so desperately wanted to meet someone he could forge a deeper connection with. Someone who could look past the broken shell that he was and really _see_ him.

Which was how he had started paying for male escort services.

Despite his pleas though, none of them ever stayed. None of them cared beyond the sum Shiro was paying them for their time. Matt and Allura’s concerned looks about this complex he had developed in recent years escaped him.

He was fixated now on the idea that to be worthy of a man’s love, he had to keep spending money on them. Keep them wanting to stay.

Because they never stayed. They never saw how desperate for intimate companionship he really was. They never saw how much it hurt that they wouldn’t stay.

So Shiro continued to throw himself bodily into his daily routine of exercise, work, exercise, pay another escort. Wash, rinse, repeat. All while he missed the looks and words of concern from his friends.

*

The coffee shop near his office building was crowded. People were laughing, talking over-top of one another in louder increments in order to be heard, all while baristas called orders in the background and wait staff ran orders to tables with ready-made polite smiles and basic conversation.

Blessedly, Hunk always made sure that Shiro’s usual table was reserved before his daily visit on his way home from work. Shiro had met Hunk through Matt’s younger sister, Pidge. Friendship always came easily for Shiro, which made the yawning loneliness ache that much more, because he hadn’t had anything deeper than a friendship in a long, long time.

“Shiro!,” Hunk’s enthusiastic exclamation upon Shiro’s arrival at the shop inevitably drew a small, grateful smile to his lips. Hunk was always happy to see him. Hunk was always happy to see anyone he knew. His kind-hearted personality, coupled with his excellent culinary skill was what made his café slash restaurant so wildly popular among the residents of Altea city. “Grab a seat, buddy, I’ll have your usual ready for you soon!”

Shiro nodded his thanks and sank gratefully into his seat, back to the corner where he could observe the hustle and bustle of the indoor space. 

People were a constant stream through the doors at this time of day, ordering coffees and pastries on the go, or sitting down for a late lunch, early dinner, depending on the hour of the day. Shiro got so lost in his people-watching, that he didn’t notice the approach of one of the wait-staff, who had another customer trailing behind them along with his usual sugar loaded salted caramel latte and toasted croissant.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Shirogane, but is it alright if this customer shares your table with you today?” Shiro blinked in confusion, looking up at the waitress. “They desperately need the table space for a little while, and every other table is full-up today.”

Shiro blinked again, and nodded slowly.

“Sure, I have no problems with that. I shouldn’t be too much longer anyway, so they’re welcome to share.”

“Thanks.”

The low, gravelly tone of the voice was what had Shiro looking past the politely smiling waitress to the young man moving from behind her to sling himself into the seat across from Shiro. Pitch-black locks half hid startlingly blue eyes in a lean, angular face. As Shiro watched, the other tucked an errant lock of hair back behind one of his ears, and bent down to drag a rather ancient looking laptop from inside a worn, beaten up backpack to set it on the table beside his black coffee. He is young, and gorgeous, and Shiro is quite frankly dumbstruck.

“Uh, sure, no problem,” he stumbles his way through a response, probably a beat too late. Clears his throat. Tries again. “I’m Shiro, by the way.”

Blue eyes flick up to look at him over the top of the laptop screen, the smallest of smiles curving one corner of plush, pink lips upwards so that Shiro near swoons at the sight.

“Keith.”

 _Keith_. Simple, and beautiful, Shiro watches between bites of flaky, fluffy, chicken, avocado and cheese filled croissant as Keith boots up his computer. Shiro winces sympathetically when the exhaust fan whirs and buzzes, concerningly loud in the crowded restaurant space. Keith simply swallows a mouthful of coffee and starts tapping away at the keyboard, losing himself in whatever it is that he needs to get done.

Shiro tries to tell himself to go back to his observing the happenings going on past this little table made for two, but he feels mesmerized by this young man he’d never met before today. Shiro felt out of his depth, and out of his league. Keith was _so_ out of his league. It had Shiro feeling helpless, in a sense.

Which was why it took him so long to realise that he had never before sat so comfortably with someone _in silence_ before today. His previous bed partners all felt the need to fill the silence in some respect, rather than enjoy it. Keith embodied the opposite of those escorts. The only noises coming from him were the quiet clacking of laptop keys, and the overloud sounds coming from the exhaust fan of his computer. There didn’t _need_ to be anything else between the two of them, which was ludicrously comfortable for Shiro given that he’d only just introduced himself to this man.

Shiro cleared his throat as quietly as possible when a pink tongue darted out to wet Keith’s bottom lip, and to catch stray droplets of coffee.

Shiro had surely died. There could be no other explanation for this overwhelming sensation building inside his chest.

Before he knew it, Shiro had eaten his way through the entirety of his croissant without even having tasted it. He was that driven to distraction by this man. It was the beeping from his smart watch that drove him back into action again. He had to get going. _He really didn’t want to leave._

“Well, I have to get going, good luck with whatever you’re doing there.” Shiro offered as he stood, shoving his wallet and phone back into their respective pockets.

Those arresting blue eyes looked up at him again, and Shiro felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush at the sight of that tiny smile again.

“No worries. Thanks for letting me share your table Shiro.”

Shiro stumbled over his words again, reaching for his coffee without watching what he was doing. Lost in a sea of blue.

Which was when he knocked his syrupy sweet coffee across Keith’s keyboard. Both men leapt to try and prevent the disaster too late. With a fizzle and a loud pop, the computer screen went dark. Keith’s face went pale. Shiro felt his heart plummet through the floor, along with his chances of _ever_ possibly getting to know Keith better.

“ _Fuck_.”

The exclamation was quiet, but no less for its level of intensity.

“I am _so_ sorry!” Shiro gasped. Keith looked up at him in stunned silence, as Shiro stood there, frozen for a moment.

“That paper is due tomorrow,” Keith mumbled, gazing back at the black screen of his computer.

Shiro was spurred into action at that, reaching out to gently grasp Keith’s wrist. The stunned surprise in those blue eyes when Keith looked back up at him again hadn’t shifted.

“Let me make it up to you, please,” Shiro said quietly. Keith did nothing but look into Shiro’s eyes for a few moments, before nodding mutely. Shiro couldn’t help but smile, relieved.

“Good, come with me.” Shiro tugged gently, and Keith was stumbling to his feet, scooping up his worn out backpack, and following Shiro wordlessly out the door and down the street.

*

When Keith realized exactly where Shiro was dragging the younger man to, he started to dig his heels in.

“You _really_ don’t have to get me a new laptop,” Shiro stopped in front of the store, and turned to look back at the younger man. He sighed, reaching up with metal and textured rubber fingers to shove his hair out of his eyes.

“Please, let me do this,” Keith looked at Shiro sceptically. “Please. It’s the least I can do, and you wouldn’t owe me a thing!” Keith looked vaguely alarmed. Shiro let go of the delicate wrist in his grip and flapped his hands by his face in awkward exuberance. “Really, I mean it. I can afford to buy you a new computer ten times over and not leave much of a dent in my bank account.”

Keith blinked, surprise evident in his gaze.

“Should you really be admitting that to a guy you barely just met?”

Shiro chuckled nervously. “Probably not,” he admitted sheepishly. The he sighed, looking from Keith to the store front and back. “C’mon, trust me enough to know that I won’t be demanding any favours or anything from you. I broke your laptop, so I wanna replace it.”

Keith’s shoulder sagged with the sigh he breathed.

“Okay, fine, fine. I’ll trust you, Shiro.”

Shiro felt like he’d taken a punch to the gut even as he smiled bright and sunny at the young man standing before him.

“Great. Okay. C’mon then.”

And that was how Takashi Shirogane first met the college student half his age that he fell irrevocably head over heels for at first sight.


	2. Replace What's Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has a new laptop. Shiro has a dazzling smile.
> 
> Keith is Stunned (TM).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one is only short, sorry guys! My brain is very much in a constant state of tired. That and a constant state of Hades right now. Seriously. That game is hella addictive and I'm *living* for it. But I'm also living for Keith being a secret romance addict, don't you agree?
> 
> Enjoy guys! Next chapter will hopefully be sooner rather than later!

Keith Kogane followed Shiro the Stranger (who was also apparently _loaded_ ) back out of the tech store they’d stepped into less than half an hour after walking in with him.

“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, still feeling a little shell-shocked about the entire arse situation. “A rich stranger spilt coffee all over my dinosaur laptop, which broke it. _Then_ said rich stranger proceeds to buy me a top of the line, brand new computer from the HP Spectre range, including subscriptions to any programs I need access to because university studies are a thing.” Keith stared in awe at the larger man, who had turned to look questioningly over one shoulder at him when his babbling rant began. Keith reached out with the hand that wasn’t clutching the handle of the computer box and the strap of the new heavy duty laptop case Shiro had bought to go with the computer to snag the older man’s sleeve, apprehension filling Keith all over again.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want me to even _try_ to repay you?”

Before he could spiral into a thousand different scenarios about exactly _how_ this whole situation could go completely and irrevocably _wrong_ , warm, calloused fingers gently covered his own, and Keith stilled, looking up into warm, silvery-grey irises. Keith could feel the blood rising to his cheeks.

“You don’t owe me a _thing_ , Keith. _At all_.” Shiro murmured, squeezing Keith’s fingers in a reassuring manner. “I busted your computer, so it was only right that I replace it. So what if I didn’t replace it with the cheapest thing on the market currently? You’re a university student. You need something that’s at least going to see you through the next few years of your studies, if nothing else.”

“So what?” Keith scoffed, unable to help the laughter that welled up from his belly. When he looked up again, tears in his eyes, Shiro was grinning unrepentantly at him. “So what? So what I still feel like I owe you, that’s what.” Keith eventually retorted, voice still distorted by his laughter.

Now it was Shiro’s turn to blush.

“Well, I uh… I guess, if you’re that worried about it, I could give you my number,” The older man suggested, reaching up to scrub a hand over the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “That way, you can contact me anytime you have any questions, or for anything at all, really.” Shiro trailed off shyly, words fading to the barest mumble.

Keith blinked once. Twice.

A hot, older guy wanted to give Keith, _Keith_ , his number?

If Keith were any more of a romantic, he was pretty sure he’d be swooning by now. Because this was some next level, other-worldly gentleman shit. Move the fuck over, Mr. Darcy.

Since he was practically stunned into non-verbal vocalisations, Keith reached out with his free hand, making a grabby motion in Shiro’s direction. Shiro, confused, unlocked his phone and handed it over after fishing it out of his back-pocket.

Keith had never punched his number into someone else’s phone so fast before in all his twenty-one years of living. Once that was done, he hit the call button on the newly added contact information in Shiro’s phone, waited until his out-dated, third-hand iPhone 5 started to buzz in the back pocket of his well-worn jeans, before handing it back to Shiro.

“Y’know,” Keith began, as he retrieved his own phone to save Shiro’s number to his contacts list. “This could totally be some trashy romance novel meeting, right here. Like, modern day Cinderella type shit.”

Huh. Shiro snorted when he laughed. Who’d’ve thought Keith would find that trait so adorable in the older man?

“You’re probably right,” Shiro agreed when he eventually wiped the tears from his eyes. He breathed deep, sighed it out, then smiled fondly down at Keith. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” Keith’s cheeks pinked again.

“Uh, no, my roommate should be coming to get me soon from the café,” Keith admitted, scuffing the toe of one of his dirty sneakers along the pavement. Shiro appeared to visibly deflate somewhat. Keith smiled up at him reassuringly. “I appreciate the offer though, Shiro. And I really appreciate you buying me a new computer.”

“It’s no problem at all, Keith.” Shiro reached out, squeezed one of Keith’s shoulders gently, let his large hand fall back to his side. “I should probably let you go set that up and get some work done while you wait then, huh?”

Keith blanched.

“ _Shit_ ,” the younger man hissed, “You’re right!” Keith scrambled to cross the street back to the café. Once he was one the other sidewalk, he turned back to find Shiro was watching him, something small and pained in his expression. Keith waved at the older man to gain his attention. When those grey eyes were fixed on him again, Keith yelled “call me sometime!” so that he could be heard from across the street.

Keith thought that Shiro’s smile just then could’ve lit up the entire city, it was that dazzling.

*

“So, what, this complete stranger _bought you a new fucking computer_ because he _spilt coffee on your old one_? _What_?!”

Keith clenched his fists and breathed in and out slowly. Because he was _not_ going to punch his roommate in the face for squawking at him about the whole Shiro buying Keith a replacement for his old and dead dinosaur computer. Again.

So Keith simply shoved Lance McClain away from his personal space, and continued to type out the essay he needed to get done before midnight tomorrow.

“Lance, do me a favour.”

“What, Mullet?”

“Shut the fuck up and go the fuck away so I can get this essay done.”

“Love you too, Mullet,” Lance cooed as he finally, mercifully, left Keith in peace and quiet at his desk in his bedroom of their small, old, crusty flat. The door also, blissfully, clicked shut behind Lance on his way out.

He may be a pain in the arse, but at least he was a (mostly) respectful roommate. Small mercies.

Keith couldn’t get over the responsiveness of this new computer that _Shiro had bought for him_. It had taken all of fifteen seconds to completely boot up, and then he was setting up the laptop exactly how he liked it, installing programs and retrieving whatever files he had remembered to save to his Google Drive account. He had to redownload a couple of things, and completely reinstall others, but at least he’d be able to work on his essay without worrying about having to plug his computer in to charge twenty minutes after turning it on.

He still couldn’t bring himself to call this brand new, fast-working piece of technology his own laptop though. It didn’t feel right, since it was Shiro who had paid for the computer in the first place.

Put simply, Keith was still having a small crisis over the fact that the man who had spilt coffee over his laptop and killed it happened to be rich enough to be able to buy him one of the best laptops money could buy to replace Keith’s old hunk of junk.

It was insane. It was a modern Cinderella AU in the making. Keith was still absolutely stunned about the whole thing.

It also didn’t hurt that Shiro the Stranger was insanely fucking hot. There was no way someone was that tall and that broad without being beefy and muscle-bound _everywhere_. No way in Hell.

Keith shook his head, slapping his own cheeks a couple of times to make sure that he’d cleared his thoughts of hot, older beefcake (at least for now), so that he could focus on this damned essay.

He couldn’t have hated core university subjects if he _tried_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream at me on Twitter! I occasionally post fic updates and info there, but mostly I just retweet stuff and swoon over all the Sheith things.


	3. Can it be Mended?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance lunch with Pidge, and Matt goes home for a visit.
> 
> Plotting commences!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one seems to be consistent so far with the short chapters (haha, well, at least I'm being consistent!).
> 
> My final term of diploma studies is in full swing, so I may not be able to write for a little while from now, so I hope you all enjoy this little tidbit!
> 
> See you all next chapter!

When Shiro received a text message the next day from an unknown number, which started with a string of exclamation marks, and ended with a bunch of happy crying emojis, he grinned to himself as he saved the number to his phone simply under “Keith”. When he looked up from his phone, his best friend and business partner, one Matthew Holt, was eyeing him with suspicion. Shiro raised his eyebrows in return.

“What?”

“What’s got you looking so _happy_ , Shirogane?”

Shiro blinked at his friend, expression deadpan.

“I’m not allowed to smile at something now, _Holt_?”

Matt stuck his tongue out, and poked Shiro right in the middle of his immaculate, suit clad chest.

“You’ve been so depressed for so long that I was starting to wonder if I’d _ever_ see you smile again Shiro. So! Spill the beans; what’s got you smiling of a sudden?”

Shiro paused, wondering exactly how much of the story he should tell Matt. Then when he thought about it some more, he realised that Matt would be very likely to do his own digging to fill in the blanks. And Matt knew Hunk as well as Shiro did.

“Fine,” the businessman sighed, running his fingers through his hair before starting in on his recount of the events that happened yesterday. By the time he was done, his best friend was staring at him like he should be committed.

“I’m sorry, you bought a _complete fucking stranger_ , and not just any stranger, but a _hot_ stranger, a brand new laptop because you killed their old piece of junk that should’ve been scrapped _years_ ago?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“And not only that, but you managed to score _his number_?”

“Yup,” with a popped ‘p’.

“I feel so _cheated_ that I _missed_ this!”

Shiro blinked again. “ _That’s_ what you’re concerned about? That you weren’t there to witness the series of unfortunate events that is my life?”

Matt clapped a hand down on one of Shiro’s shoulders, expression one of the utmost seriousness.

“Takashi Shirogane, if you don’t use that number to _eventually_ tap that, I’m going to be _very_ disappointed in you. I hope you know that.”

Shiro breathed in deeply through his nose, seeking the patience to not strangle his best friend.

“Matt, if anyone is insane here, I hope you know that I think it’s you.”

“Oh, I know. But my life’s ambition is to see you get some ass you _didn’t_ pay to get.”

Shiro groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead.

It was going to be a _long_ morning.

*

“And _then_ guess what this guy does _after_ killing Keith’s dinosaur computer?!”

It was Monday afternoon, and Lance’s crowing recount of what had now been dubbed The Coffee Shop Incident ™ to their friend and classmate Katie Holt, known by all as Pidge, was well past starting to grate on Keith’s nerves and had just flown past testing his patience.

They had met up with Pidge in the refectory for lunch, and their tiny friend was sat silent in their seat, listening as Lance babbled on and on about Keith’s encounter with “this ridiculously hot, _even more_ ridiculously rich stranger” who “casually bought Keith one of the _best_ laptops money could buy!”.

Keith was about ready to strangle Lance, when the Latino _finally_ finished his retelling of the story.

Thank _fuck_.

“So,” Pidge began, chin propped on their laced fingers, elbows resting on the table in front of them. “You share a table with a stranger in a full coffee shop Friday just gone. Said stranger then spills coffee all over your obsolete piece of crap as he’s about to leave. The stranger, who I’ve been told effusively at this point is ‘hella hot’, then drags you across the street to a tech store, where he proceeds to flash his black credit card to buy you a top of the line computer to replace the craptop he busted?”

Keith slammed a hand over Lance’s mouth the second he saw it open. Keith counted his blessings that Lance wasn’t the kind of best idiot that licked the hand that was trying to keep his mouth shut.

“Yep, that about sums it up. Oh, and I also sent him a string of exclamation marks and emojis this morning after I finished setting it up.”

Pidge shot out of their seat at that, palms slamming to the table.

_“He gave you **his phone number**?”_

Keith nodded in silence, proud that he didn’t flinch at Pidge’s sudden movement. They might be tiny, but they were a force to be reckoned with.

“And you _haven’t_ gone on a date with him yet why?”

Keith choked on air, cheeks burning.

“Because not only do I only know his first name and his phone number, I don’t even know if he’s interested in _men_ , Pidge. _That’s_ why.”

Keith glared in response to the look on Pidge’s face. It was a non-verbal “you’re so fucking stupid”.

“Keith Kogane, that man _bought you a laptop_ and then _gave you his phone number_. If that doesn’t scream “please be my sugar baby” to you, I don’t know what the hell will.”

Keith was sure his cheeks were tomato red by that point. Damn his pale skin. He promptly folded his arms on the table to hide his face in them.

“Can we just _drop it_ already,” his plea was hoarse. He was tired of his friends harping at him about asking Shiro the Stranger ™ out for a date.

At this point he was just tired. He yawned into his arms, and nestled into them further for a quick nap before his next class.

*

When Pidge got home from the university that day, they could hear their older brother’s crowing laughter coming from the living room. Grinning excitedly, they quickly toed of their shoes and dropped their bag by the entry, throwing the front door closed behind them as they took off running for the living room.

“Matty,” they called, diving for their brother’s open arms.

“Pidgeon,” Matt cheered, squeezing them tightly. With a fond smile and shake of her head, their mother Coleen decided to leave her two children to catch up. It had been a few weeks since Matt’s last visit home, after all.

When they were done squeezing each other hello, they both pulled back and started speaking at the same time.

“Guess what’s happened to Keith!”

“You won’t believe what happened to Shiro!”

The pair stopped, and blinked at each other in surprise.

“No fucking way,” they whispered in shocked unison, before delving into their recounts of the coffee shop meeting between Matt’s best friend and Pidge’s classmate.

Then they started plotting.

Beware the plotting Holt siblings… the results are usually explosive after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream at me on Twitter! I occasionally post fic updates and info there, but mostly I just retweet stuff and swoon over all the Sheith things.


	4. Crack a Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serendipitous meeting! Or is it? Plus an invitation to dinner, and a little 'torture' on the side. What a day for poor Keith Kogane!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to 2021, fellow Sheithers!
> 
> Since I've already posted my first fic update of the new year, I felt it was only fair that i also update one of my Sheith WIPs as a New Year's gift to you all!
> 
> I'm not entirely sure when i'll have the wherewithal to update again - things have been highly stressful for me at the moment, since I'm only working 10 hours a week and struggling to find a better job to move on to with more hours on offer. Safe to say my bills are piling up and so is my anxiety. 
> 
> So I wanted to gift you all with something quirky and funny and lighthearted. I hope it lifts your spirits a little like it has mine <3.
> 
> See you all next update!

“So tell me, _why_ are we meeting your brother Matt where he works again?”

Keith’s tone was all skepticism as he looked over at Pidge sat in the seat next to him. The bus was blissfully empty for the time of day, with only three other passengers scattered through the vehicle.

“ _Because_ ,” the tiny brunette began, rolling their eyes before looking up at him from their position hunched over the tablet in their hands. “I’m helping him with something, and I didn’t want to take the bus alone, and you were available to play bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Keith scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning into the back of his seat, one eyebrow raised incredulously. Pidge raised their own eyebrow in response, eyeing him up and down for a moment.

“Don’t lie and try to tell me you’re not hiding muscles under those loose t-shirts. I can tell, just like anyone born with above average observational skills can tell. It’s the shirts that make you look scrawny.”

Keith had no rebuttal for that. Pidge was right after all, but he wasn’t going to give them a bigger ego than they already had. They’d been friends for long enough now that Keith could tell he’d never hear the end of it if he admitted they were right out loud.

Pidge looked up as the bus rounded the next corner and pressed their ‘next stop’ button. Keith grabbed his backpack from where it rested on his feet and kept hold of the pole in front of him as he stood, letting his friend take the lead, since he had no idea where it was they were heading to.

When Pidge pushed through the whirling glass doors of a pretty fancy looking high rise office building, Keith paused outside the doors. Pidge’s brother worked _here_?

“Wow,” he mumbled to himself as he stepped inside. The ground floor was comfortably cool to ward off the summer heat outside, and laid out in a modern, space-agey kind of way that had Keith feeling almost like he’d stepped foot in another planet entirely. Sleek, glossy surfaces gave way to sharp lines and angles, and there was even an entire wall clad in slab tiles of a kind of marble that looked like it was shot through with tiny nebulas and universes Keith could only imagine.

It was very chic. Very expensive. Very _not_ Keith with his ragged Kmart sneakers, barely functioning backpack, and hole filled t-shirt. He felt as if everyone in the reception room was looking down their noses at him, trying to silently tell him to _leave, you’re not worthy to walk among_ our _kind._

“C’mon, loser, stop staring and get over here,” Pidge called from a bank of elevator doors on the other side of the reception desk. The woman behind the desk, a smartly dressed young woman, smiled reassuringly at him.

“Don’t worry, Pidge does this with all of their friends at one point,” the receptionist said laughingly. “You’re more than welcome to go on in with them.”

Keith nodded to the receptionist on his way past without comment, and stepped into the lift Pidge called for them right behind the tiny brunette. Pidge barely even glanced at the large panel of floor buttons as they hit the button for floor 28, labelled “ _VOLTRON TECH. RESEARCH LABS_ ”, and listed right below floor number 30, “ _VOLTRON TECH. C.E.O._ ”.

“You didn’t mention your brother worked for that famous cybernetic prosthetics company.”

“Because he doesn’t _just_ work for the company; he’s one of the co-founders.”

Pidge’s flippant comment had Keith choking on air.

“ _Excuse me,_ ” he wheezed, coughing to clear his throat of nothing.

Pidge looked at him with mild concern as they elaborated. “Yeah, Matt went through college with the C.E.O. and the other prosthetic engineer. They all did undergrad, honours, and masters together. Then the C.E.O. joined the army and got shipped out of the country for a few years. This was all before they founded the company; they did that when he came back from service. They’ve all been here running the show ever since.”

Keith whistled low as the elevator doors opened at floor 28 with a quiet _whoosh_ , and they stepped out into a room filled with sleek metal tabletops, brightly lit computer screens, and the sound of various typings and whirrings as research notes were written and prosthesis parts were tested. Keith looked around the large space in awe, following at a more sedate pace as Pidge weaved their way through the maze of tables, benches and desks to a door on the far side of the floor space.

“Through here,” Pidge said, a grin on their face as they opened the door to another floor space, equally as large as the first, and just as cluttered. The difference this time was that there were only three occupants in this room. All three were crowded in front of a computer screen, auburn hair sandwiched in by a silver undercut and long, lush silver curls. The three sounded like they were debating the best possible addition for the operating system of a new prosthetic design.

“But that could overload the motherboard. I really think we should redesign this model before we try adding a function like _that_ ,” the silver-haired woman of the trio argued, pointing to several lines of coding on the screen in front of them.

“Yeah, but it only _could_ overload the motherboard, not _definitely_ overload it. What about if I reroute the function like…” the brunette trailed off, muttering to himself as he cleared the lines of code that had been pointed out and rewrote the code. “Like…this,” he finished as he tapped the last key on the keyboard in front of him with a flourish. He laced his fingers together and tucked them behind his head, leaning back in his seat and radiating smugness as the two heads of silver hair leaned closer, examining the rewritten code displayed on the screen.

“That…could actually work,” the silver haired man murmured. Keith froze at the familiar sound of a barely known voice. He stared at the back of that silver undercut clad head in shock as Pidge sidled toward them, dropping their backpack onto a nearby desk with a distinct _thump_. All three of the people in front of the computer screen jumped in shock.

“What’d Matt do wrong _this_ time,” Pidge asked, a grin on their face. Matt swiveled around in his chair to glare at his sibling.

“I didn’t do anything! These knuckleheads just can’t understand the level of my genius.” Matt crowed, matching his sibling’s grin. Keith just shook his head fondly at the two. Pidge wandered over to the computer screen to read over the code, while Matt looked over and took notice of Keith standing near to where Pidge had dumped their backpack. “Hey Keith! It’s been a while. What’s been going on?”

Keith couldn’t help but smile at the joviality in Matt’s voice. Matt’s enthusiasm for all things science really was quite infectious.

“Oh, you know, just the usual torturing myself with assignments and minimum wage work. The usual,” Keith shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.

And that was when the silver-haired man whirled around, all coding and data on the computer screen forgotten at the sound of Keith’s voice reverberating through the room. Wide, shocked grey eyes locked onto Keith’s own blue orbs.

“Keith? Wha-, um-, ah-,” the older man stammered, cheeks flaring pink with warmth. Keith had to physically try to keep himself from smirking at the sight. He was also genuinely surprised that such an affluent, eloquent man as this one was dumbstruck by the sight of him here in his own office building.

“Wait a sec,” Matt began suspiciously, mock glaring between the two of them. Keith raised an eyebrow at the older Holt sibling. “You two _know_ each other?”

“We, uh, we’ve met before,” Shiro stammered, grabbing at the expensive looking tie around his neck and tugging at it and the collar of his white dress shirt.

“You could say that, if you count killing my laptop with a stupidly sweet coffee and promptly buying me a high end replacement as ‘met’.” Shiro looked over at Keith again with something akin to betrayal in his eyes, but softened when he saw the laughter dancing in Keith’s own eyes. Matt, Pidge, and the silver-haired woman, meanwhile, all sputtered in unison.

“ _No way!_ ”

“What the _Hell_ , Keith?”

“What are the _odds_!”

Matt gestured between the two of them, while Pidge and the woman looked on in wide-eyed surprise. “Are you seriously telling me Shiro, that _Keith_ is the hot guy whose laptop you killed with your caffeinated sweet-tooth?”

Keith raised an eyebrow at Shiro, whose cheeks were burning bright red. “‘ _Hot guy_ ’, huh?”

Shiro looked like he wanted a hole to open up in the floor and swallow him whole right about then.

Shiro stammered again. “Well, I uh, I mean, yes?”

Keith chuckled, at least until the power of the Holts was turned onto him again.

“ _Shiro_ is the ridiculously rich, hot stranger that bought you a new computer,” Pidge squawked, looking entirely offended with the two of them. Keith’s laughter was short lived, as it was now his turn to flush with embarrassment. Shiro also got his turn to raise an eyebrow at Keith.

“‘ _Ridiculously rich, hot stranger_ ’, huh,” Keith glared at the man for that, which in turn had Shiro laughing, loud and openly. Keith, despite his embarrassment couldn’t help the tiny smile that quirked the corners of his mouth.

He _really_ wanted to hear that sound again sometime.

“This is so serendipitous,” the woman exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. She seemed to float as she crossed the room towards Keith, and carried herself almost as though she were a member of a royal family.

“I’m Allura Alforsson, it is _so_ lovely to meet you, Keith,” the beautiful, dark skinned woman smiled at him as she reached out to clasp one of his hands. “You simply _must_ join us for dinner this evening. We’re planning to celebrate the completion of our latest prosthetic model. And if Pidge is invited, it would be simply rude to leave out the friend they brought here with them today.” Allura looked over her shoulder at the others, ho all nodded their agreement. She grinned as she turned back to Keith and looked at him imploringly. “What do you say, Keith? Will you _please_ join us tonight?”

Keith flushed, stammered, and cleared his throat nervously as he looked down at his ratty sneakers.

“I uh, I don’t have anything _nice_ I can wear, though,” he mumbled, heat searing his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Well then, we simply _must_ take you shopping first,” Allura insisted, whirling to face the others. “Does anyone else want to come with us,” she asked, looking over at Shiro and the Holt siblings.

Pidge shook their head. “I was planning to help Matt with the rest of this coding til it’s time to get ready for dinner, so both of us are staying here.”

Allura turned to Shiro, and Keith could just barely see the doe-eyed look she turned on her friend, who ultimately sighed, crossed his arms, and shook his head with a fond smile.

“Alright, guess I’m volunteering then. Otherwise poor Keith here will have to suffer alone,” Shiro said, patting his blazer pockets, and then the front and back pockets of his slacks in quick succession, before nodding to himself. “I’ve got my keys, wallet and phone, so if Keith is ready to submit himself to torture for a couple of hours, then I guess we’re ready to go.”

Allura cheered in delight, picking up a rather large, tan leather handbag from the floor by another desk. “Excellent! Alrighty then Matt, Pidge, we’ll see the two of you later. Meet us at Corran’s, alright?”

The Holts gave them all a thumbs up in perfect unison as they continued to argue over the specifics of a line of coding further down the screen than the lines Matt had just replaced when they walked into the office. Keith was hardly surprised; they’d done that more times than he could count before today.

And that was how Keith Kogane, undergrad student and minimum-wage worker, found himself being swept out of Voltron Tech’s fancy high rise office building by two-thirds of the founders of Voltron Tech so that they could spend their money on _him_ , for no other reason than that he had nothing nice enough to wear to Corran’s, most famed restaurant in Altea City for its outrageously expensive menu, for a dinner outing which coincidentally happened to be with the hot, rich man who had spilt coffee on his dying computer and then bought him a brand new one, no questions asked.

Keith was almost worried that he would pass out from how fast his head was spinning.

 _Almost_.

*

Pidge turned to their older brother, excitement clear in their eyes once the officer door had closed behind Allura, Shiro, and a rather bewildered Keith.

“Can you _believe_ that actually _worked_ ,” Pidge crowed. Matt grinned at his younger sibling in utter delight.

“If we have it our way, they’ll be all over each other before long.”

Matt’s grin dipped into a fond smile as he looked back towards the door. “You know,” he murmured, turning back to the computer screen. “I can’t remember the last time I heard him laugh so genuinely.”

“It’s been too long,” Pidge agreed, nodding solemnly.

With their plan in motion, the Holt siblings returned to their previous argument about Matt’s coding, and whether anything else needed changing, according to Pidge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come scream at me on Twitter! I occasionally post fic updates and info there, but mostly I just retweet stuff and swoon over all the Sheith things.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me on Twitter! I occasionally post fic updates and info there, but mostly I just retweet stuff and swoon over all the Sheith things.


End file.
